Clockwork Tales :: Clockwork Tales Short Story Essays

Clockwork Tales Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-TONG! .............. "Yeah, I finally got that damn clock to stop," the man mumbled happily. "Now I can sit here and read in peace." He picked up his copy of Canterbury Tales, aching to find the insight that his professor swore was kept hidden within. He started once again. The Miller's Tale. "Hmm, I wonder how long it is." He started to flip through the pages one by one, counting them off. "One, two, three, four, five, . . . seventeen. Well, that's not so bad. If I could just get started on it." He looked down and started to read. "Whan that the Knight hadde thus his tale ytold." Tick-tock, tick-tock. "Dammit!" He jumped up out of the easy chair, and in doing so sent his literature book cascading across the room. "Damned clock. I'll show you what's up." The poor clock really didn't know what to make of this. After all, it was just sitting there, doing its job of counting the seconds, minute after minute, hour after hour. It was a good little clock. It was about the size of a baseball, and it's brass plating was polished to a gleaming shine. It fancied itself as attractive. People loved it. No one had ever told it to shut up before. This was all brand new to it. It wanted the man to be happy. It really did. But the man was far from that at the moment. His fair skinned face was mottled and flushed with rage. His blond hair was tousled and unkept, and looked as though he had just woken up. His shirt was untucked from his jeans in various spots, almost making him look like a bum. The clock ticked to itself again as the man stepped closer. It was still vaguely upset at the shoe that had been thrown at it a few minutes before. Violence just wasn't the answer, the clock believed. If you just waited, time would solve everything. It was inev itable. The man was just a few steps away now, and the clock was frightened. What would this man do to him? Would he tear out his gears, pull out his plugs, or would he merely smash him into the fireplace he was resting on, ending it all with single forceful blow. The clock's ticking sped up ever so slightly, half a second instead of a whole.